


Captive

by supern0thing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Fucking Machines, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Karkat does SCIENCE, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Medical Procedures, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Sensory Deprivation, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Tentabulges, Trigger Warnings, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supern0thing/pseuds/supern0thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen-year-old college freshman John Egbert wakes up to find that he's been abducted by aliens, who proceed to violate him in every possible way through medical experimentation. After days (weeks? months?) of being poked and prodded against his will, John fears he is slipping into insanity -- until one day, when one of the aliens takes pity on him.</p><p>Alternian Medical Corps officer Karkat Vantas has spent his life concealing his blood mutation with the help of some friends in high places, and has now successfully entered military service. He is given his first assignment aboard a science vessel orbiting the planet Earth, conducting experiments on the local fauna. Despite his qualifications, he is relegated to the menial task of collecting samples from the abductees -- including one John Egbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Prologue] > John: Remember.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS.
> 
> Inspired by [this plotbunny by Zilleniose](http://zilleniose.tumblr.com/post/42721576719/okay-this-is-horrible-but-i-cant-get-this-out-of)(link is extremely spoilerrific!).

Before he could even open his eyes, John Egbert knew he didn't want to wake up today.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly against the bright light shining into his face so intensely that it was penetrating his closed eyelids, setting every nerve on fire. His head throbbed and his joints ached, and he wasn't sure if the lingering taste of vomit in his mouth or the dryness of his throat bothered him more. He wondered if someone had drugged his drinks at the party Dave had dragged him to last night. Or maybe he really was just a lightweight, like his roommate always said. He swallowed thickly and lifted his arms --

Or at least, he tried to. His eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up, even before he had fully registered that the leather straps that pinned his wrists down also had him restrained at the chest and ankles. He let out a choked cry as the straps bit into raw, chafed skin everywhere they touched. Adding insult to injury, he realized he was naked and that his legs were spread apart in stirrups.

"Wh... what the...?" he coughed, incredulous. He felt the tendons in his neck strain with the effort it took to look around. There wasn't much to see, however, thanks to the combination of the blinding lights focused on him and the absence of his glasses. He saw only blobs of grey and white, the occasional gleam of silver.

"Hey! Hello? Hey, what kind of hospital is this?!" John rasped, his confusion replaced by venomous vitriol. "What's going on? Hey! Somebody come here and untie me --"

The sound of swinging doors and a rush of cool air from his left stopped John mid-sentence. He scowled in the direction of two figures that strode toward him unhurriedly.

"Hey, what the hell is going on? Where am I?" he demanded. The figures stopped halfway to him and whispered to each other, so silently it sounded more like hissing than actual words to John.

"Uh, still here, still tied up," he reminded them with all the bitter annoyance he could muster. One of them looked up at him, and John realized they both had a pair of weird, orange, hornlike protrusions coming up through their scrub hats. They began to move in closer, and John blinked furiously in an attempt to get the sleep out of his eyes. He couldn't possibly be seeing them clearly. Once satisfied, he squinted to get a better look at them as one stood by his side while the other rounded the table -- and his mouth fell open in terror.

He didn't even realize he had been screaming until one of them stopped him by stuffing a gag into his mouth with a gray, clawed hand. They stared down at him in annoyance with ochre-yellow eyes as they worked together to restrain his flailing body further, at the elbows and forehead. They spoke to one another in hisses, clicks, and half-swallowed vowels while one filled a syringe with a clear liquid from a vial it pulled from a breast pocket.

John's eyes welled with tears as it all came rushing back in a flood over his sluggish mind. He'd been here a few days already. He had woken up in this room at least three other times. The first time he'd seen one of the monsters (demons? aliens?), he'd screamed and sobbed himself physically sick while they took samples of his skin and hair, and passed out. The second time wasn't much better, and he'd struggled at his restraints when they attempted to stick needles into him until they gassed him back into unconsciousness.

The third time he awoke, only one of them was in the room, and after removing John's blindfold it spoke to him in odd, broken English, with weird guttural consonants and throaty groans where some vowels should have been. Something about how he'd been chosen for some biology project "for the glory of the empire." 

With one swift movement, it placed a mask over his nose and mouth. He tried to scream around the gag, but suddenly couldn't muster the energy to make any sound. He blacked out to the echoing sounds of their chittering laughter.

===>

The first thing he realized when he woke again was that he was completely immobilized by restraints from head to toe, staring at the ceiling, flat on his back with his legs in the air. The cot he lay on had been adjusted so that his lower half was raised at an upwards angle. The lights in the room had been dimmed enough for John to see a lit console on the wall by where the monster stood out of the corner of his eye. It pressed a few buttons, and John felt the bed rumble underneath him.

 _They can't be ... no ..._

At first he tried to rationalize it all. "Haha, very funny Dave," he said shakily as the stirrups his ankles were trapped in forced his legs apart, "you win, this is the best prank anyone's ever pulled, I renounce the art forever--"

Three mechanical arms emerged from the platform underneath him and hovered above him momentarily. The end of one was clearly a dildo of some sort, polished metal and slightly curved. The second was a metal tube surrounding some different, darker material, with an opening at one end. The third arm was much smaller than the other two and ended in a nozzle. It came down first and positioned itself between his legs, and squirted a freezing cold, thick liquid over John's crotch before disappearing once more. He shuddered as it spread down his flaccid penis, over his balls and perineum, all the way down between his spread buttocks.

He began to laugh hysterically. "Oh man Dave, alien anal probes, are you kidding me? Who helped you set this up, your bro, right? Oh man, are we on one of his weird porno sets right now? This is so funny, you are the prank master, it is you, can we stop now?"

Nothing changed. The gray-skinned monster contemplated him curiously, clearly not understanding most of what he was saying. The arm with the dildo slowly positioned itself before John's unprotected hole as he continued to babble even faster, fear edging his words. He struggled against his restraints to no avail, clenching and un-clenching his fists and teeth.

"No really, please stop now, please, you're scaring me, please don't do this, oh god please stop please stop please--"

The monster strode over to him and forced a cloth gag into his mouth before he could scream. The gleaming metal dildo pressed itself inside John slowly at first, sliding its full length in as he let out a choked sob. He tried to wriggle away, but it was no use. After a few slow thrusts, it finally entered at an angle where the curved tip brushed over John's prostate, causing him to clench around it involuntarily. It paused its rhythm momentarily, as if briefly calculating and measuring the precise angle, and then continued its ministrations at an increasing rate. Each thrust hit the gland again and again, and John felt his penis begin to harden involuntarily. He sobbed even harder, tears and mucus streaming from his nose and down his face, soaking his reddened cheeks.

At that point the monster took John's penis in a gloved hand and inserted it into the tube on the last mechanical arm. The inner material turned out to be something very soft and damp and slightly textured, reminiscent of a tongue -- and to his utter horror, the tube began to slide up and down along John's erect length in time with the dildo's thrusts, squeezing gently around him as it went.

In a haze of horror and unwanted arousal, he gave up.

It was over not much longer after that. As John ejaculated he felt the suction increase slightly near the tip of the head. After a few moments the alien removed the tube from around the boy's softening erection and detached it from the arm, sealing it with a cap and placing it in a pocket of its white lab coat. John remained utterly still while the alien cleaned any remaining lubrication from his crotch and dabbed away the blood that seeped from the edges of his restraints with wet cloths. He simply stared blankly at the dim lights above, weeping quietly.

The creature replaced the blindfold and John heard it step over to the console. A few moments later, he heard both remaining arms withdraw and disappear back under the platform. The lights in the room went out, and darkness robbed John of his ability to see at all. The swish of the swinging door and another rush of cool air signaled its departure.

Sometime later, hours or days, or maybe weeks, who could tell -- John lost consciousness.

==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all friendly, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, since I am coming out of a long period of creative writing hibernation. c: thank you for reading!  
> You can follow me on tumblr for updates: [my fanfiction blog](http://supern0thing-fanfiction.tumblr.com/) and [my personal blog](http://nowimn0thing.tumblr.com).


	2. [1] > Karkat: Take on menial duties.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Karkat appears and brings trouble with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I am completely overwhelmed by the positive response I received! Thank you all so much for your words of encouragement, it really means a lot to me to hear from you.  
> Nothing explicit this time, but I hope the plot and a little pale cuteness (and the promise of said funtimes next chapter ehehe) will tide you all over. :]  
> Special thanks to my super sweet beta [carcinogayneticist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/carcinogayneticist) for being patient through a long writing and rewriting process, and for generally being awesome.

> Karkat: Take on menial duties.

Karkat Vantas yawned, covering his overbite and straining to keep his eyes open enough to peer around the passenger cabin. He was belted into a lumpy seat among a dozen or so other newly promoted science officers being shipped off to their new assignment: a science vessel orbiting what the textbooks called a "paradise planet," teeming with life and ripe for researching.

He was on high alert, as always, and that had a way of sapping one’s energy. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in sweeps thanks to a constant level of anxiety, but that was the price he had to pay to stay alive. Constant vigilance and having a few friends in high (and low) places were the only things that kept his blood mutation the closely guarded secret it was in a society where victims were vilified and back-stabbers lauded -- and said friends were now thousands of light-years away. He'd chosen the career path that generally attracted the least bloodthirsty and violent members of his race, but that was no guarantee he wouldn't have to defend himself at some point. Unfortunately, due to his short stature, rather unintimidating features, and the fact that he was masquerading as a burgundy-blood (the only caste he could reasonably get away with despite his lack of psionic abilities), most other trolls regarded him as an easy target for letting out their aggressions. He’d had a few close calls at the Science Academy, but working on a space station was going to be a different story altogether.

So Karkat kept his head low and his awareness high, stealing glances at the others around him through the fringe hanging just over his eyes. It was best never to stare at anyone directly, but Karkat kept a policy of knowing his enemy's weaknesses -- and everyone was potentially an enemy. The vast majority of the trolls around him were olive-bloods, though there was a good number of bronzes and even some teals. Every single one of them was at least a head taller than him or more with horns twice the size of his. His stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably when he thought of the bigger and nastier adults awaiting their arrival.

The seatbelt light turned off just then, and a voice filtered through the speakers overhead informed the passengers that they had successfully completed their slowdown from faster-than-light speed and would be arriving in Earth's orbit momentarily. The young troll let a quiet sigh of relief escape his lips as he stood up and stretched his lithe body out of its sleepy stiffness. After a moment's contemplation, he strode down the aisle toward the load gaper. The other trolls determinedly paid him no mind.

After checking the lock twice, Karkat turned the sink on and splashed warm water into his face, drying off with a nearby hand towel. He plucked out his maroon contacts one at a time, rinsing them under the water as well. After replacing them, he braced himself on the sink and leaned in close to the mirror to make sure they covered his incriminating, bright red irises. 

As his reflection came into focus before him, he couldn't help pulling a frown. His rounded horns hadn't grown more than a couple centimeters in the past two or three sweeps, and his teeth were miserably dull. His ruddy cheeks still held some of their youthful softness, belying his maturity. Although he was in good shape and rather stocky for his height, he still didn't quite fill out his black-and-tyrian officer's dress uniform as well as his peers. He thought of the others in the cabin with their deadly horns twice the length of his own and mouths full of razor sharp teeth and broad shoulders fitting perfectly in their jackets, and sighed defeatedly. What was he thinking, risking his life just by being here? He had never felt more frightened and out of place.

For a moment he entertained the familiar, dark thought that he didn't deserve to be here at all. He'd never have gotten here solely on his own merit, not with his dirty blood. He'd often told Eridan as much back on Alternia when they'd jam together on breaks from school. At that point Eridan usually papped him hard on the forehead and firmly advised him to shut up. Then the seadweller's eyes would soften almost imperceptibly and he'd whisper, "You deserve to be here more than anyone."

The red-blood's heart swelled at the thought of the last feelings jam he'd had with his moirail a few hours before setting foot on this ship. He'd shed his fair share of tears that time, his entire body tense with apprehension at the danger he faced. Instead of the customary smack to the forehead, his pale-mate had taken him in a firm embrace, resting Karkat's head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I believe in you, Kar," he'd murmured softly, stroking his long, bejeweled fingers through Karkat's coarse hair. "An’ I believe that you have just as much right to live as anyone else. So do Fef and the others, an’ that’s why we’re helpin’ you." He swallowed. “That’s why we’re gonna turn this empire on it’s head. An’ we need you alive for that.”

At that bold statement, Karkat's breath had hitched in his throat, and he'd pulled away to stare at the war prince-in-training incredulously. 

Eridan only grinned mischievously in return. "Now, you go get on that ship an' make 'em all wish they'd never heard 'a the hemospectrum."

His memories were interrupted by another ping that emitted from the overhead speakers, followed by a computerized voice warning that the ship would be docking in five minutes. Forcibly dropping the smile that had crept onto his face, Karkat straightened the caste and rank insignia pins on his collar before making his way back to his seat.

==>

Karkat and the rest of the new officers filed into a briefing room a short distance from the bay they had docked in, flanked by two burly blueblooded security officers, and fell into rank. A tall, lanky adult troll wearing a white lab coat over his duty uniform stood at the front of the sparsely furnished room, leaning casually on a desk. He wore the insignia of a high-ranking surgeon and a teal caste symbol on his collar. He stroked a well-groomed goatee as he peered at his new subordinates over wire-rimmed glasses. One of the bluebloods closed the door behind the last of Karkat's group, and the surgeon stood up straight and clapped his hands together once.

"Ah, relax, relax, ladies and gentlemen," he said in a smooth baritone as he began to stroll back and forth in front of the group, "and welcome to your new home, the science vessel _Ocaran_. I am Doctor Rovhul, chief of xenosurgery and your commanding officer. If you would, please form a nice orderly line here at the desk in order of caste rank from highest to lowest so that I may hand out your assignments. Afterwards, you may partake of the last meal at the mess hall before retiring to your new quarters. If you have any concerns, see me immediately after all of the assignments have been given."

He gestured to a pile of papers on the desk beside him, and sat down behind it. Karkat broke rank and stood off to the side as the line formed, before taking his place behind the lowest-ranked bronze-blood. Despite the fact that his hard-earned officer rank placed him above a good half of his fellow recruits, his assumed place on the hemospectrum still placed him dead last in many situations.

When it was finally his turn, Karkat stepped up and held out a hand to receive his papers, but the surgeon simply pushed the stack across the desk as though it were crawling with bloodmites and pointedly ignored Karkat's attempts to make eye contact. The mutant frowned and picked the papers up off of the desk himself, and began to skim the first page.

DUTY ASSIGNMENTS FOR K. VANTAS (HEMOTYPE B; HOSPITAL CORPS, MEDICAL RESEARCH OFFICER 1ST CLASS, HICSS _OCARAN_ , EARTH)  
QUARTERS: DECK 10, ROOM 1015  
AREA ASSIGNMENT: DECK 6 (HUMAN SUBJECT HOLDING QUARTERS)  
0600: EMPTY AND SANITIZE LOAD GAPERS, BEGIN BLOOD DIALYSIS CYCLES ON ALL SUBJECTS. COLLECT AND PACKAGE SAMPLES AS INDICATED TO BE DELIVERED TO LABS (DECK 8). SEE ATTACHED PROCEDURES.  
0800: BEGIN PARENTERAL NUTRITION CYCLES ON ALL SUBJECTS, ADJUSTING ACCORDING TO NEEDS ON DAILY CHARTS. SEE ATTACHED PROCEDURES.  
1000: COLLECT AND PACKAGE DIALYSIS SAMPLES FROM ALL SUBJECTS TO BE DELIVERED TO LABS (DECK 8). SEE ATTACHED PROCEDURES.  
1200: LUNCH HOUR  
1300: PERFORM SPECIAL TESTS AS INDICATED ON INDIVIDUAL SUBJECTS' CHARTS.  
1500: COLLECT REPRODUCTIVE MATERIAL SAMPLES AS INDICATED TO BE DELIVERED TO LABS (DECK 9). SEE ATTACHED PROCEDURES.

_Well... fuck,_ the red-blood thought simply, brows furrowing as he continued to read. He should have figured he would be given the least glamorous duties. Even beginning the dialysis and nutrition cycles was as simple as pressing a button. Despite his advanced laboratory training, his jobs read more like those of a glorified janitor. Besides the ambiguous “special tests,” the most difficult part of his job would be not tripping over his own feet and smearing the hallways with waste samples on his way to the labs.

"Do you require, ah... special assistance in comprehending your assignment, Vantas?" the doctor intoned slowly and carefully, jerking Karkat from his thoughts. The adult flashed him a vaguely threatening, toothy smile. Someone in the back of the room snickered.

Rovhul spoke again before Karkat could reply, voice dripping with caustic condescension. "Now now, there's no reason to make that face. Everyone has to start somewhere. You should be happy to be here at all, serving the Empire in this capacity. Quite a privilege for someone of your status, no?"

Not without great effort, Karkat relaxed, took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, sir, it is a great honor for someone of my lowly station to serve in the noble profession of xenobiology for the glory of the Empire. I hope that you will find my work to be satisfactory."

Rovhul raised his eyebrows in amusement, but looked a bit disappointed that he hadn't provoked a more entertaining reaction. Good. He wasn't going to get one.

"Carry on," the teal-blood muttered, waving a hand dismissively.

The younger troll swallowed the angry lump in his throat, stood as tall as he could manage, and walked out of the room towards the mess hall. He put on an air of confidence as he walked in and picked up a prepackaged dinner and left just as briskly, never making eye contact with another troll until he reached his quarters.

His single bag of personal belongings was already stowed in the corner of the room, the walls of which were painted a bland bluish-gray. A recuperacoon filled with fresh sopor slime sat flush with a small desk. Upon the desk, to Karkat's delight, sat a nondescript military-issue husktop. While it started up, he stripped out of his dress uniform and put on his pajamas, a simple white shirt and gray flannel pants. After a moment's thought he pulled on a black sweater as well.

Once it was up and running, Karkat signed into Trollian, and was greeted by a viewport chat request from Eridan. He accepted, replacing the blank screen with a live video feed of his moirail’s grinning face. The royal’s characteristic purple streak was gone thanks to uniform codes, but otherwise he looked to be the same vigorous Aquarian Karkat remembered. He was half-dressed, wearing his white and violet dress uniform minus the jacket, one of his signature scarves still hanging loosely about his neck. The room behind him was decorated far more lavishly than Karkat's ascetic quarters, probably a perk of attending a Command School exclusive to those of royal lineage, though Karkat had a feeling Eridan would have decorated regardless of protocol.

"Kar," Eridan breathed, "you're a sight for sore eyes."

"It's been less than a week, nookmunch," Karkat replied with a little more venom than intended, but smiled in a way that said he had been missing the seadweller just as much. “Go on any genocidal ego trips while I was gone?"

"Only once," his partner joked. Little things like that made Karkat so proud of his moirail -- when they had met, the bespectacled boy had been little more than a self-centered, histrionic man-child who took himself far too seriously. Three sweeps of feelings jams later, though, Eridan had learned the value of considering the feelings of others, evidenced by how quickly he'd been ascending in rank since he'd left Alternia for Command School. He was even developing a reputation among his peers for being a charismatic, insightful leader. Karkat had certainly benefited from their relationship as well; he had a nasty tendency to bottle up his emotions until they burst and got the best of him, but Eridan had developed an uncanny ability to see right through and knock down any barriers the red-blood built up. With the elder boy's help, he'd become more even-tempered and able to stay rational under pressure, not letting his emotions get the best of him -- a valuable lesson, considering his situation. The red-blood shuddered to think what might have become of them if not for the time spent tempering one another's instincts.

"Kar? Somethin' wrong?" Eridan's face had pulled back into a look of concern. Karkat sighed heavily and detailed the day's events to his moirail, watching as his concern turned to anger that made his fins flush and flare out.

"Those grubfuckin' ingrates," the older man growled through gritted fillet-knife teeth, hands grasping the edges of his desk, "A first-class officer cleanin' fuckin' load gapers, I oughta call up Fef right now an' find out who to talk to to get 'em all culled, as a matter ‘a -- "

"Shoosh," Karkat coaxed, instinctively reaching out and touching the husktop screen where it displayed his moirail's purpling cheeks.

"Seriously Kar, you know you can just say the word an' -- "

" _Shoosh,_ idiot," he said again, more firmly. 

This time Eridan visibly relaxed, fins settling back to their normal position. He lowered his head into his hands, propping his elbows on his desk. He was still flushed, but now it was more out of embarrassment than anger. "Good to know you can pap me through a computer screen," the royal confirmed, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah, seems that way," the red-blood assented. "But look. What they're doing to me really isn't that unfair, I guess. Everyone's got to start at the bottom, right? And the bottom for burgundy is, well, pretty low. You'll just have to teach me your string-pulling ways so I can climb up the ranks fast enough that I don't have to spend too much time wiping these drooling pink worms' assholes for them."

"Kar, bein' everyone's favorite on top 'a bein' so good-lookin' ain't all its cracked up to be," the royal sighed, "We got our new recruits two days ago an' half of 'em are already kissin' my ass raw or tryin' to get on my bulge, one girl managed to sneak up here without the key code last night an' about scared me to death -- "

"Bein' popular is sooo hard," Karkat interrupted his palemate mockingly, and mimed flipping the end of a scarf over his shoulder with a huff. "It's hard an' no one understaaands."

"Shut your ass, shouty, that sounds nothin' like me," Eridan protested, crossing his arms and puckering his lips in a fake pout. The red-blood grinned at the use of one of his childhood nicknames, one bestowed upon him by an older relative of Feferi's, a princess named Meenah whom he had only met a handful of times but had gotten along with particularly swimmingly.

"Kar," Eridan began, "I hate to end this here, but as you can see" -- he gestured to his half-dressed form -- "duty calls. I gotta show my pretty face for a few hours at some fancypants wrigglin' day celebration for the headmaster."

Karkat frowned, but his stomach gurgled at the mention of dinner, and he cast a glance at the boxed-up food sitting on the desk beside the husktop. "All right," he assented, "Not like either of us have a choice in the matter. I'm free until lights out at 2200, if you get back before that."

Eridan gave Karkat a soft smile that showed mostly in his eyes. "I'll try to keep my schmoozin' to a minimum but no guarantees. Pity you."

"Pity you too."

The viewport window went black. Karkat reached into his bag and pulled out a thick human biology textbook, propped it open on the desk next to his dinner and assignments, and began to eat while he studied. He’d do this job so well there’d be no excuse in all of paradox space the higher-ups could find to keep him down on the bottom rungs.

==>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies. :D  
> Ahh, writing in some headcanons for seadwelling trolls was fun! I didn't really have a chance to point it out, but the fact that Eridan smiles at Karkat mostly with his eyes is another one of my headcanons -- baring one's teeth can be seen as a gesture of intimidation, so trolls keep the teeth to a minimum when smiling.  
> See you next time, I hope!  
> (have fun with those made up names eheh)


	3. [2] > John: Hope.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I -- I know I said I wouldn't hurt you. But... you know why I have to do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos! :>  
> Beta'd by [carcinogayneticist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/carcinogayneticist/pseuds/carcinogayneticist) who is so much cooler than me it hurts.  
> Specific warning in this chapter for suicidal ideation.

> John: Hope.

John wasn't sure what day it was, or even if it was day, or night... or even if any of that mattered anymore, since he no longer had control over anything. He lived on _their_ schedule now, permanently in a drug-induced, dreamy haze. They woke him up to do their tests, scraping skin and cutting hair and drawing blood, and then left him to linger or put him back out. He didn't even flinch anymore while they changed his catheters. He'd woken up several times now with bandages he was sure covered surgical incisions. They had stopped removing his blindfold for every procedure since he had become accustomed to being touched and stuck and scraped without warning -- not that it mattered anyway, since they had taken away his glasses. Some of them talked to him as they worked. To his surprise some of them spoke English, but for the most part it was unintelligible. Most of them didn't speak English at all, and instead chattered away at him in an unpleasant, vaguely insect-like warble. He wasn't sure what was worse to listen to.

After a few weeks they gave John a simple handheld device with one button which, when pushed, delivered some kind of painkiller directly into his bloodstream. Whatever it was, it made him feel woozy and disconnected, like he was floating up above his body rather than actually occupying it. If he pressed the button twice, it was usually enough to put him to sleep.

Three days later he pressed the button repeatedly, hoping to overdose. All it got him was a day spent being violently sick, puking off the side of his cot into a trash can while a gray-skinned attendant cackled at his misery.

He'd spent most of his waking hours wishing for death after they began violating him regularly. He fantasized about breaking free of his binds and using one of the many surgical tools stored in the drawers below his cot to slit his wrists. Even if he only managed to free one arm, he was sure he could reach down and tear open the sutures on his stomach. Hell, he figured if he could just get his hands on one of their skin scrapers he'd flay himself alive, if that's what it took to end this. He prayed that they'd do it for him, either by botching a surgery or just deciding he wasn't worth their time anymore, but the more he wished for it the less likely it seemed it would ever happen.

This day started off the same as they all did. He'd woken up only a few minutes prior to the doors opening, signaling the arrival of one of the... nurses, he supposed. However, this time it didn’t just walk over and go straight to work. He heard only a few footsteps before something clattered to the floor, followed by a string of sibilant consonants he supposed were curses and papers rustling – then total silence. No feet padding around at the control panel, no pen scratching on paper. It was as if the thing were just... standing there, staring at him, for a good long while. After a few moments, it seemed to abruptly regain its senses and hurried to his bedside, startling John out of his confusion. It started yanking open drawers beneath his cot unceremoniously, fishing around in them noisily.

It pulled off John’s blindfold and placed his glasses gingerly on his nose. The world came into sharp, dizzying focus above him, accompanied for the first time by a clear image of one his captors. He took in the new details of his surroundings, perceptions slowed by shock and lingering effects of the drugs. Its appearance was less frightening than he'd previously thought, but also unnervingly humanoid. Its yellow-orange horns were much shorter and more blunt than the ones he’d seen on others, easily less than half a foot long and just slightly curved. It had elfin ears that were just a little too big for the rest of his head, a round face with chubby cheeks framed by coarse-looking black hair, and a nearly flat, snout-like nose with hardly any nostrils to speak of. Its slightly open mouth revealed a full set of somewhat sharp, canine-like incisors and a thin red tongue. The feature that stood out most, however, was the pair of enormous golden-yellow eyes with slit pupils and thin red irises observing him with what looked like incredulous disbelief.

It gazed down at him for a long time, its thick eyebrows furrowed in a very deep frown. John was fairly certain he’d never seen this one before, and guessed that it was just as freaked out to see a real-life alien as he had been the first time. 

Then it shook its head, swallowed hard, and spoke to him in near-perfect English, upturning John’s world completely.

"John Egbert. Human, eighteen Earth years of age. Mixed Korean and Caucasian race. Average height and weight. Average intelligence. Health status, near perfect, no physical defects to speak of besides myopia. Mental status... questionable, thanks to the fact that none of the insipid bunch of grubfisted fucking ignoramuses here can speak a grammatically correct sentence in any human language. Luckily for them, and probably for you, I can. That all sound correct to you?"

The full reality of the situation crashed down around John. Overwhelmed by his reality being flipped topsy-turvy yet again ( _it speaks English, it gave me my glasses back, what the everloving fuck is going on what do I do now --_ ), his eyes welled with tears. He was utterly powerless to stop the sobs that escaped him. He felt himself writhing in his bonds, chafed wrists scraping against rough leather, clenching and unclenching his fists as he began to cry.

At the sound of the first pitiful wail that escaped John’s gagged mouth, it recoiled slightly with a chirp. For a minute it just stood there open-mouthed as John wept openly, as though unsure. John was all right with that. Let it see what they had done.

Instead of reacting with anger or putting him out like John expected it to, it pulled a short, cushioned stool around from the other side of the bed and sat down next to John. Then, inexplicably, it slowly reached out a hand and began to stroke his hair.

“Shoosh,” it said quietly, “hey, stop crying, what are you, a wiggler?”

“Fuck you!” John tried to scream through his gag, shaking his head viciously in an attempt to ward off the alien’s hand.

“Hey, hey stop, I’m not going to hurt you,” it – it _cooed_ ; John had never imagined they were capable of something so gentle, and it gave him pause. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from its inexplicably kind face. Preoccupied with his own confusion, he fell limp once more.

“That’s it. Shoosh,” it said again reassuringly, petting John’s hair once more. “It’s all right, no one’s going to hurt you. You’re going to be okay.”

 _He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s trying to trick you!_ John’s mind screamed at him, and he felt his face screw up in anguish once more. And yet, the more he looked at that concerned face, that alien face that looked so much like it was seconds from tearing up as well, the less he was inclined to fight. Torn between conflicting instincts, he whimpered in despair, instinctively attempting to curl up into a ball.

His captor slowly reached its other clawed hand toward his face. John flinched away at first, fearing injury, but it merely began to thumb away his tears with a touch so light and careful John could hardly believe it. It continued to coax him through his shuddering sobs, pulling tissue from one of its pockets to wipe John’s nose, until they subsided. Then it slouched back on the stool, sighing deeply as he surveyed John’s form.

“All right, look, uh...” it stuttered its scratchy tenor, seeming more nervous than John had ever seen one of them. “I’m breaking so many rules by talking to you but I can’t believe… this,” he gestured around the room and at John’s bindings, “these conditions are inhumane, I mean everything is sanitary but you’re caged up like a fucking moobeast here, you’ve got sores everywhere you’re bound, I mean none of this is my fault but I feel like I at least owe you an explanation…” He massaged his temples (it occurred to John that many of his mannerisms were awfully human-like, a thought that made him deeply uneasy) before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“You are being held for experimentation on Her Imperious Condescension’s Space Station _Ocaran,_ a science vessel cloaked in orbit above your planet Earth. You were randomly selected as a…” it swallowed uncomfortably before continuing. “… As a test subject, for the purpose of study by the scientists of the Alternian Empire. But that’s all. We’re not here to harm your people, we’re just, uh… curious.” It winced at its own words. John was slowly getting the idea that this was a very young member of its species, and perhaps not entirely convinced that everything he was doing was morally sound.

“I… my name is Karkat. I’m a scientist here, a xenobiologist to be exact… this is kind of my first day on the job, actually,” it said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve only done simulations and practice on other trolls before. And I kind of expected to be working up in the labs, not... here. Um. So seeing you like this gave me quite a shock. I, uh, wasn’t expecting these... conditions.”

Karkat shrunk into himself at that point, John noticed, as though he were about to admit something with extreme reluctance. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, all he could do to implore his captor to continue.

“I uh, I guess I don’t really want to do this at all, but I don’t have a choice,” he sighed heavily. “I’ve been assigned to do the dirty work, basically, running tests and collecting samples and making sure you stay in optimal health. So uh, I realize that you probably… oh who am I kidding, you don’t fucking want to be here. But you’re here, and they’re in charge, so I don’t really have a choice whether I do what I’m told or not because they’ll just eject me into space and find someone else to do it instead.”

Finished with his rambling, Karkat looked up at John, biting his lower lip in trepidation. He must have seen the look of dread and unease that crossed the human's face, because he quickly added, “The good news is you won’t be here forever.”

John wasn't inclined to believe Karkat, but still felt his face soften involuntarily at the glimmer of hope the words brought. The alien uncurled himself and let a half-smile creep onto his face. “Yeah, you’re probably really glad to hear that. It’s true, one hundred percent hoofbeastshit free. In about a month we’ll dope you up with some memory-altering drugs and you’ll wake up on your lawn ring, probably get a diagnosis of psychogenic fugue and a few years of psychotherapy for it, but you’ll be home."

He placed his hands over his kneecaps and straightened out some more. "Well, I guess I could talk to you all day but that won't make you believe me, so I guess I'll get to work. And like I said, I'm not going to hurt you, so I'd appreciate your cooperation and all of that. If we can learn to trust each other, I can remove some of these binds and you won't have to be strapped down all day, all right?"

Now John had to admit that trusting Karkat was probably a good choice. The prospect of being able to move around of his own accord and not have it done by weird gray aliens one limb at a time was extremely hard to reject. Although he was one of them, the guy didn't seem so bad, after all. His body language seemed genuine, at least. He didn't seem happy with his place here either -- given his impression of the rest of them John didn't doubt they would actually toss one of their own out of an airlock -- and he was willing to break the rules for John. So far, so good. John locked eyes with Karkat and nodded as much as the strap over his forehead would allow.

The alien's eyes crinkled up in what John could only assume was a smile. "Good. Okay, I'm going to start your dialysis cycle -- cleaning your blood -- should be pretty painless since you've got a PICC line in. And I'm gonna take that strap off of your head and clean up that sore, all right?"

John nodded again, and sighed in relief when he felt the pressure on his head disappear. He smiled as best he could with cloth stuffed in his mouth and began to stretch his neck, reveling in his newfound freedom of movement. Karkat flashed him another eye-smile and began inspecting the catheter in John's arm. The smile quickly turned to a wince.

"Jegus's holy throbbing bone bulge, don't any of these assholes know how to put one of these in without fishing around? I'll have to change it after this is done. Incompetent nookbiters," he grumbled.

Much to Karkat's (and frankly, John's own) surprise, a muffled giggle escaped from around the gag. They stared at each other incredulously for a moment before Karkat shook his head slowly and walked over to the console to begin the procedure. One of the machines John was hooked up to began to whirr quietly, and he turned his head to watch for the first time as it began to draw his blood from one needle, filter it, then send it back into his body through a second. Karkat walked back over and watched it himself for a few moments before nodding in satisfaction.

"Looks good. I'll be back in an hour, all right?" He waited for John to nod once more in acknowledgment before striding out through the double doors, charts in hand. Oddly enough, John felt a twinge of something like loss in his chest as his attendant exited. He tried not to dwell on it as he relaxed and let the machine do its work.

==>

Karkat wasn't exactly expecting the other three test subjects to be rays of sunshine after the condition he'd found John in, but he wasn't prepared for what he did find. They'd all been taken around the same time as John, but he quickly discovered that the fact that John was able to communicate with him at all was probably a result of extreme resilience or sheer force of will on the boy's part.

The other three humans were in progressively worse shape than the last. The least of his problems with them was that he didn't speak their languages fluently. None of them even attempted to make eye contact with Karkat once he removed their blindfolds, or even responded to his voice or touch. They all just stared blankly up at the ceiling, hardly moving, if at all. The first one, a waiflike teenage blonde, drugged herself back to sleep the instant Karkat removed her blindfold, by pressing her button rapidly about a dozen times. The second, a freckly young boy, wept silently as Karkat went about his duties, but otherwise gave no indication that he was conscious. The last, a dark-skinned girl a few years John's senior, lay utterly still as Karkat worked, barely even blinking. She was on full life support, and her charts indicated that she had entered a deep catatonic stupor not long after her arrival. No safe dose of benzodiazepines, antipsychotics, or deep brain stimulation had brought her out of it. It was as if she had utterly lost the will to live.

Karkat had taken an introductory xenopsychology course in school, but other than defining the terminology used on the subjects' charts, he knew nothing about how to deal with humans who were so deeply psychologically disturbed. It was too late for him to help them, and with every step he took making his rounds he felt the weight of utter despair settling heavier on his shoulders. He felt a firey rage growing in the pit of his stomach, as well as a profound sense of uneasiness. If this was going to continue, if this was how species research really went, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand doing it. For the thousandth time in his life, he cursed the fact that he could never have survived in his first-choice job, fighting on the front lines as a Threshecutioner. He would have been culled the first time anyone drew blood during training.

It also made him wonder what it was about John Egbert that he was able to hold himself together so much better than the others. To him, that raven-haired boy's survival despite the horrific conditions he had lived with for the past month or so was the biggest mystery of all, and he pondered it through his work and lunch hour.

He rode the elevator back up to the sixth deck just in time to get started on his rounds once more. As he reviewed his duties for the rest of the day, he felt his shoulders slump with dread.

"Collect reproductive material, to be delivered to labs for immediate testing. Priority, urgent," he muttered weakly. "Fuck me sideways with a rake."

Thankfully, but also cruelly, John was the only reproductively viable human on the ship. Karkat wouldn't have to use the machines on the little boy, or the unresponsive girls. He would, however, have to use them on the only human on the ship who still clung to a remnant of their sanity, the one he'd just promised he wouldn't hurt.

Sweating and on the verge of trembling, Karkat pushed the door to John's room open. The boy was staring right at him as he entered, his forehead creased in trepidation. He caught Karkat's eyes and stared pleadingly at him, eyebrows drawing upward, an utterly pitiful sight that made Karkat's breath catch in his throat. It was written all over his face -- John had been here long enough that he knew what was coming, but was obviously hoping that he might be spared.

With much effort, Karkat shook his head in dismay, and the sob that escaped John's lips in response tore right through his bloodpusher. He didn't even attempt to apologize. There was no apologizing for this sort of wrongdoing. Biting his lip, he entered the commands into the console that controlled the machines surrounding the bed, and flinched when John cried through his gag in despair as his legs were drawn up and apart. The scientist choked back tears of his own as he pressed the button that would begin the process. He cringed as gears began to move, grinding against each other --

\-- and nothing happened. John had fallen silent in surprise, tear-filled eyes wide. Karkat whipped around to face the bed. The mechanical arms remained still. The console chimed softly, and Karkat turned back around to read the error message that had popped up.

"Device inoperable due to hardware malfunction, alert maintenance crew for repairs."

He felt the blood drain from his face. No. Fuck no. Sweet almighty taintchafing _fuck no._ Not this, not now. He had less than an hour to get this sample to the labs. If he didn't bring them a sample they'd have his head.

He'd have to get it himself.

It took him every ounce of mental fortitude he had to turn around and shuffle toward John's bed. At first the boy had looked almost gleeful, but as Karkat approached he quickly realized that he was not in the clear just yet. The corners of his mouth pulled down in confusion and renewed fear as he watched Karkat remove the metal masturbator from the arm it was attached to, manually squeezed some lubricating fluid from the nozzle into and around its entrance, and move to stand by his side.

Karkat swallowed hard several times before speaking, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact with John despite the fact that he would rather have been looking anywhere else than into those harrowed eyes. "I -- I know I said I wouldn't hurt you. But... you know why I have to do this."

John had only known Karkat a few hours, but already the young alien had made a much different impression on him than the others. He obviously didn't have much more of a choice than the humans did about being here (John didn't think the other option of being thrown out into the vacuum of space to die horribly could actually be considered a choice, upon honest reflection he'd decided he probably couldn't do it if he was in Karkat's position). Even if that wasn't enough, the genuine pain and regret etched on that gray face, the trembling of his clawed hands, the slouch in his shoulders -- that was not something that could be faked. So John sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and forced himself to nod once.

"Do you want the blindfold back?" he asked in a tiny voice. He didn't even finish his sentence before John began to shake his head "no" vigorously, shutting his eyes tightly as if the very thought pained him. Karkat nodded in acquiescence, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and reluctantly began his work.

John opened his eyes just a sliver to watch as Karkat dipped two fingers into the masturbator to lube them up, rubbed it around the palm of the glove, and began to manually stimulate him. As the gloved hand stroked him to hardness, he couldn't help but let out a pitiful moan. He felt the familiar tingling of arousal spread through his abdomen, guilt rolling in along with it. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't his fault, that his body was reacting instinctively and naturally, but that logic didn't work much better than it had the last several times he'd tried. Painful, self-deprecating words crept into his thoughts unbidden. _You're disgusting. You want this. You like this, or you wouldn't be getting hard right now. You sick fucking freak._ He gritted his teeth against them, trying desperately to block it all out, but he felt tears welling up anyway even as he felt himself harden.

It only took a few more strokes for Karkat's ministrations to get him stiff enough to start using the masturbator. The alien looked incredibly relieved to be able to remove his hand from around John's genitals, but that disappeared the instant he slipped the metal device down onto the boy's slicked penis in it's place. John groaned around his gag, feeling cold tears begin to slip down his flushed cheeks as Karkat began to pump.

The return of John's wretched, heaving sobs was Karkat's breaking point. Twin pale, pinkish tears of his own slipped from the corner of his eyes down his bloodless cheeks as he continued to slide the device up and down, up and down. He'd never hated himself more than he did at that very moment, even considering his lifelong penchant for intense self-loathing. He began to feel physically sick, swallowing hard at the sting of bile creeping up the back of his throat.

It started off as a whisper, a low mumble, when the boy's cries began to escalate in intensity. In minutes it had become more like a mantra, almost rhythmic, an apology in return for every muffled wail of despair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. John, I'm so sorry."

When the pale boy's body finally tensed up from head to toe, nails clawing at the thin mattress beneath him, Karkat felt a strange sense of bitter relief. He removed the masturbator carefully so as not to spill the hard-earned sample, and capped it off with a seal retrieved from the inner pocket of his white coat. He set it on the table beside John's bed, then promptly bent over and vomited into the nearby biohazard bin.

Wiping his mouth on his jacket, Karkat straightened up and looked down at the boy lying rigidly beside him. John's breaths were no longer coming in shallow, heaving gasps, and his eyes were bloodshot and tired behind his stained lenses. He was already staring up at Karkat with -- oddly enough -- a pleading, desperate look in his eyes that screamed, _Please don't leave me alone now._

The alien couldn't help but oblige. He knelt beside the bed to rummage in the drawers yet again. His search turned up an old, scratchy blanket, which he draped over the naked body of his captive. John visibly relaxed -- it was probably the first time in who knew how long that he'd been afforded such a comfort. While the young man reveled in his newfound level of privacy, Karkat pulled the stool closer to the bed and sat upon it, and tentatively reached out to thread his fingers between locks of surprisingly soft black hair.

For a moment, John stilled in shock, overwhelmed once more by the return of comforts he'd thought were lost to him forever. It only took a few well-placed, gentle strokes to his scalp from his captor to relax him, though, and his eyelids fluttered closed. He was calmer now than he'd been since he'd woken up in this place the first time. Very slowly, he felt his breathing begin to deepen and regulate. He was no longer alone. Someone was watching out for him. He felt... safe. 

Karkat continued to caress the boy's face gently, occasionally whispering a word of comfort. After about ten minutes of this treatment, John slipped into an uneasy slumber, snoring softly. Karkat withdrew his hand and gazed down at the boy for a long moment, taking in the sight of his ruddy nose, his slightly open chapped lips, long black lashes... and realized he'd never seen a more pathetic sight in his life. It was hard not to, after what had just happened, after all he must have been put through. Karkat knew what it was like to be a prisoner, since he'd been one for so long in his own hive, but to have been taken from home against his will by such formidable beings from another galaxy was an entirely different sort of horror. The fact that Karkat belonged to the group of assailants who had been on the kidnapping end of that situation positively rotted his guts.

He checked the time on his wristwatch and realized he only had a few minutes left before the samples were due to be turned into the lab. Heaving a dolorous sigh, he pocketed the tube and stalked out of the room towards the lift. He hoped to whatever elder god who bothered to listen that Eridan would be signed on and have at least a few hours to kill when he returned to his quarters, because he'd never needed his moirail more.


	4. [3]> Karkat: Succumb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Karkat is forced to confront his growing (and entirely inappropriate) feelings for John, John receives a gift, and things end happily . . . for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait, and thank you all so much for your lovely comments and encouraging messages in the meantime. Hopefully it won't be as long for the next one (I'm already halfway through the first draft)!  
> Very special thanks to [hawktalon](hawktalon.tumblr.com) for being an incredibly patient and helpful beta reader.

> Karkat: Succumb.

"You’re kiddin’ me," Eridan groaned, brows knit with concern for his anguished moirail. Karkat had just spent the last half hour explaining what had happened to him over the course of his first day on duty, brushing tears away from his face as he explained what had happened with the humans. “D’ya really think they sabotaged the machine as a prank?" 

"Judging from the looks I got when I turned in the repair request, yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure it was a spectacularly successful game of ‘fuck with the new guy.’" He rubbed at his temples, shaking his head incredulously. “I’m just… I can’t believe they would show such blatant disregard for the well-being of the humans. It’s nothing short of a nightmare. That’s just the icing on this steaming shitcake. They’ve desecrated the Galactic Code of Ethics in every conceivable way short of going up in front of the Board, throwing the book on the floor, and taking turns pissing on it." 

Eridan winced, but tried to offer a sliver of hope. “Well … is there anything at all you can do about it?" 

Karkat barked a laugh. “Me? Hell no. I mean, of course I want to say something, but that would be putting my neck on the line. My commanding officer has already made his opinion clear that I’m not worthy of the ground he so graciously deigns to let me remain standing on. They’d probably get a good laugh out of it at best. At worst …" He paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t really want to think about it. Rustbloods are a dime a dozen, right?" 

Eridan’s earfins twitched in discomfort, face darkening. Karkat buried his face in his hands, sighing heavily. They sat together in ponderous silence for a few moments before either spoke again. 

"Speakin’ ‘a blood," Eridan began, “We got our hands on some experimental tech, just outta the testin’ stage. An injectable chroma-depositing compound." 

Karkat peeked up out of his hands, eyes wide, as Eridan continued. “Yep. One shot and your blood’s darkened to a passable ruby. Overrides the natural color. Sticks around a while too. It hasn’t been tested long enough to tell if it can make any long-term changes to your irises or other tissues but they say it’s lookin’ good. No immediate side-effects, but again, long-term testing just hasn’t —" 

"I’ll do it," Karkat interrupted, jaw set with determination. Eridan blinked in surprise. 

"You sure? I mean, there’s a lot to think about here, this is gonna increase the size of the packages we send you substantially, might look suspicious an’ all. This commandin’ officer of yours, he seem like the type to open your mail?" 

"Not sure," Karkat responded, “I haven’t actually done much of anything yet, or spent much time with him. He doesn’t have any actual reason to suspect me but I’m not willing to take any chances." He slumped back into his chair defeatedly. 

A grimace spread over Eridan’s face, and he clenched and unclenched his fists, as if struggling with a difficult decision. Finally he shook his head and declared, “I’ll talk to Fef… and Vris." 

Karkat shifted uncomfortably at the mention of their estranged acquaintance, but Eridan quickly continued, “Fef might know how to bend regulations, and both ‘a us can toss around enough authority to scare them offa messing with you too much, but worst comes to worst, if anyone knows how to smuggle illegal contraband onto an Imperial space station it’s Vris." 

Karkat let his shoulders drop in resignation. He couldn’t contest the fact that Vriska, dangerous and volatile as she was, had her ways of slipping through the Empire’s fingers. Still, it made him nervous to think about forging a connection with a military deserter while he was still enlisted. 

"If they catch so much as a whiff of her on me, I’ll be killed on the spot and you’ll be court-martialed for sure," Karkat warned his moirail, “and not even Feferi will be able to save your ass from that. Transporting illegal drugs that might not even work isn’t worth that much." 

"It’s a risk we might have to take regardless, Kar, I’m sorry," Eridan replied firmly, though his face betrayed irritation. “If they start to get suspicious about anythin’ we’re sendin’ you already, our word on your behalf might not be enough. An’ frankly, I’ll be gettin’ worse than a court-martial if they catch me gettin’ in touch with my AWOL ex-kismesis for so much as a friendly chat. Remember how long I was kept for interrogation after her and Tav deserted? Weeks longer than the rest of you, even though we’d been broken up for sweeps. I nearly died tryin’ to convince them I had no idea where she was or what she was doin’. They connect me to her an’ I’ll be just as dead as you." 

The seadweller had gotten caught up in his emotions by the end of his lecture, the tines of his fins splayed wide, cheeks purpling, voice thrumming with threateningly low undertones. Karkat was cringing, fighting to calm his instincts and remind himself that he wasn’t actually in danger, deriding himself for ever entertaining the thought that Eridan didn’t know exactly what he was getting himself into. Suddenly Eridan sat back in his chair with a huff, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in indignation. 

"… I’m so sorry, Eridan," Karkat murmured, lowering his head guiltily, “I didn’t mean to —" 

"I know." 

The sudden absence of lower harmonics in his moirail’s tone caught Karkat off guard. He slowly looked up to find Eridan gazing upon him with an expression of utmost pity. His fins had gone back to normal, and he was still flushed, but not with offense. Karkat felt himself flush also, and laid a hand over his chest, relishing the feeling of his fluttering bloodpusher beneath it. 

After a while, Eridan spoke again, reassuringly. “We’ll find a way. I’m so fuckin’ pale for you, Kar, I’d do anything to make sure you stay alive an’ well while we flip this empire on its head. Even risk dealin’ with Vris." 

Karkat blinked back tears of gratitude. “Pale for you too." He sighed. “I just wish I could be more helpful and less of a burden." 

"Your time will come," Eridan replied, eyes crinkling into a smile. 

"Yeah, we’ll see. I’ll make this all up to you someday, I swear." 

Eridan waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I ain’t keepin’ score." 

==>

The next week passed as smoothly as could be hoped. Karkat kept mostly to himself and was careful to stay under the radar, acting the part of the pious lowblood so well he’d nearly convinced himself he wasn’t walking cullbait. He performed his duties with diligence and punctuality, and showed his fellow crewmembers a level of respect they certainly hadn’t earned, which all served to keep him out of trouble and mostly unnoticed. Consequently, everyone left him well enough alone. One olive-blooded lab tech even commended him for the quality of his work, albeit in a backhanded way, praising him despite his hemostatus. 

At the beginning of the next week he decided to conveniently forget to replace John’s gag at the end of each shift. Even so, it took a few days before John spoke to him. Despite the comfort he’d sought from Karkat after their awful encounter, John was still jumpy and nervous in his presence. Of course, Karkat understood. In the meantime he did all he could to rebuild John’s trust, treating him as gently as possible. He never took away the blanket, allowing John to sleep with it and use it to keep himself covered. 

When he finally spoke up, just before the end of Karkat’s evening shift on the fourth night, it seemed it was because curiosity had finally gotten the best of him. 

"… You have horns." 

Karkat startled, nearly dropping the syringe he was filling at the time. Upon seeing John staring up at him tentatively, a certain edge of fear darkening his features, he bit back the sarcastic comment that came first to his mind (something along the lines of “Of course I do, nookwhiffer,") and instead began to explain gently. 

"Um … yeah. We all do, as you’ve noticed. They’re electroreceptive organs — that is, we can sense electric fields, as a basic sense. Nothing comparable exists in your species but there are some creatures on your planet that have it. It’s useful for hunting prey you can’t see, and keeps us from being snuck up on easily. For example …" he paused, strolling over to John until he was about ten feet away. "… I can sense your heart beating from here. Well, the electrical impulses that make it beat, anyway." 

"Whoa," John breathed, eyes wide, all of the tension gone from his face. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Neat." 

Karkat was suddenly grateful for the fact that John didn’t have organs with which to feel his own bloodpusher skip a beat. He was also pleased to find that for once, John’s wasn’t pulsing at a furious pace as he came nearer to administer the injection he’d prepared. 

"That does it for today, I think," Karkat announced, carefully disposing of the needle in the sharps bin before turning back to face John. “Good night, John. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow." 

Inexplicably, John’s smile disappeared, and his brows knitted. He bit his lower lip, as if he wanted to speak but was unsure if he should say anything. 

"… Is there something wrong?" Karkat worried aloud. 

The boy fought with himself internally for another moment, the struggle to gather up all of his courage evident on his face. Finally he murmured a question, barely audible, voice quavering nervously. 

"Um, would you … would you stay a little while longer? … I’d just like to have someone to talk to." 

Karkat marveled at the boy lying before him, mouth popping open into a small ‘o’ of surprise. 

"I mean," John blustered on, “I would just really like to talk to someone, you know? About anything. And I feel like … you’re a good person, the only good person here, and I just really … " He turned his head away from Karkat, but not in time to hide the deep redness spreading across his cheeks. “I would just really like if you stayed." 

_Fuck. Sweet screaming fuck,_ Karkat thought, _he wants me to stay._ He felt a blush rising on his own face to match John’s, and shook his head. _Get a hold of yourself, Vantas. Think about this rationally._

But it was completely rational to stay, he concluded carefully. Humans were a social species, much more so than trolls. Their very existence relied on their many emotional connections with others, and up here, John had no one. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long, especially in comparison to the others in his position. It was even recommended in his textbooks that nurses engage in small talk with their human patients, a duty that his predecessors had obviously failed miserably at fulfilling. So in fact, it would be entirely beneficial to John if Karkat socialized with him, even if it meant his already dangerous levels of pity for the boy would blossom further. As long as he kept those feelings in check, no one would be hurt, right? 

"Of course," Karkat agreed. “… I can stay a little while." 

All of his remaining insecurities about sticking around were quashed when John turned back to face him, beaming with barely contained happiness. He promptly began babbling about home, people he missed, a sister, something about a jerk in sunglasses, a loquacious blonde. All the while, Karkat listened patiently, interjected appropriately, and didn’t leave for another hour, when John started yawning as much as he talked, and dropped off to sleep naturally for what was probably the first time in ages. He carefully tucked John in before trudging sleepily off to the cafeteria for a very late meal. 

==>

Talking with John became a nightly routine. Karkat would make his evening rounds, ending with John, and spend time talking to him, listening and learning — and god help him, waxing red more and more. Having to care for his various needs on a daily basis didn’t make things any easier. What should have been a simple, platonic nursing duty was increasingly feeling like he was caring for an injured matesprit. It was all he could do to retain some semblance of professionalism in their relationship. 

It all came to a head at the beginning of his third week on duty. In the hopes that it would lessen his growing desires, Karkat decided to gift John a spare set of clothing — a simple white t-shirt and blue pajama bottoms. If John was covered up and less … well, naked and vulnerable-looking, perhaps he wouldn’t be so ravaged with pangs of pity. He folded the clothes and stuffed them inside his labcoat to conceal them on his way down to the sixth deck. 

When he arrived in John’s quarters the boy was already awake but just barely, blinking sleep from his eyes. A drowsy grin crossed his face when Karkat came close and picked up his glasses. 

"Hi Karkat," he greeted as the troll carefully placed his glasses on his face, bringing the world into sharper focus. 

"Good evening, John," Karkat acknowledged with a nod before turning his attention to the many machines at John’s bedside. “Your vitals and blood chemistry are looking normal today. How are you feeling?" 

John nodded down at the surgical dressings on his bare upper abdomen. The blanket, only long enough to cover the lower half of his body, left two carefully bandaged incisions exposed. “They’re itchy and I’m cold, but that’s normal I guess." 

Karkat gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, today I can fix both of those problems." He set about unstrapping John down to the legs, as far as he could go with the level of trust they had built together so far. 

John blinked up at him in confusion as the statement sunk in. “Wait… what?" To Karkat’s dismay, his question was edged with fear. His message must have been too cryptic. It was always better to be straightforward with John, in his delicate emotional state. He cursed himself inwardly as he removed the last restraint. 

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the clothes from within his coat and laid them across John’s lap. John immediately sat straight up and just stared at them for a long moment, before slowly reaching up to touch and unfold the shirt as gently as if it were an illusion that might disappear if he handled it too roughly. After a few moments he finally seemed convinced that he wasn’t hallucinating, and looked up at Karkat with bright eyes shining. 

Karkat felt his face soften into a smile gentler than any he could remember giving anyone besides Eridan. “Those are for you," he spoke softly. “Go on, I’ll help you put them on — hey, careful, you’re going to pop your stitches!" 

Trading carefulness for speed, John clumsily stuffed his arms into the sleeves and yanked the shirt over his head. It was baggy on his slim frame, as Karkat had expected, but it would certainly do. John palmed the fabric smooth down the length of his torso, grinning unabashedly. Karkat was glad again that John was unable to see him flushing with pity at the sight of him admiring a simple shirt as though it were the finest garment he’d ever owned. 

John’s eyes flickered down to the pants in his lap, then to the restraints on his knees and ankles. Concerned, he bit his lip and looked up at Karkat questioningly. 

"Can I … Can I wear these now too?" He fingered the waistband nervously. Karkat could feel him positively charged with anticipation. 

"Yeah, of course," Karkat replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Let me help you this time." John grinned sheepishly. 

He took the pants from John’s lap and undid the ankle restraints, put John’s feet through the scrunched-up leg holes, then redid the straps. He did the same for the knees, but allowed John to reach down and eagerly pull the pants up to a comfortable length himself, discarding the blanket when he was finished. They were short in the legs and baggy at the waist, again as Karkat had expected, but once again John didn’t seem to mind. He stroked the fabric with reverence, as if it were golden silk beneath his fingers rather than plain old woolbeast fluff. 

_He’s positively glowing,_ Karkat thought, clasping his hands together behind his back as he admired the sight of the boy so utterly pleased, for once without even the faintest shred of worry creasing his brow. 

Quite suddenly, Karkat found himself being pulled forward a step. He hissed in surprise, a high warning chirrup — but the sound got choked off somewhere in his throat when he realized he’d simply been pulled into John’s warm embrace. The boy nuzzled his face into Karkat’s ribs, and Karkat couldn’t help but release his caught breath in a soft, fluttering sigh. 

"Thank you, Karkat," John’s voice rose up from below, thick and quiet with what could only have been tears. “Thank you." 

"… Yeah. Yeah, no problem," was all Karkat could awkwardly manage in reply. 

Belatedly sensing his discomfort, John released him from the hug and looked off to the side bashfully, pale cheeks just barely touched with pink. 

"Hehe, sorry," he chuckled, ruffling his blue-black hair. 

It was in that moment, as he watched John blinking tears of gratitude out of his gorgeous pale eyes, that Karkat knew his plan had backfired spectacularly. In fact, he was positively dumbfounded that he’d ever though it would work at all, his brains must have been spectacularly addled with — 

_Pity,_ he allowed himself to admit at last. 

It occurred to him that ethics protocol stated that he should report this to his supervisor so that he could be removed from treating a patient he felt so strongly for. It wasn’t unheard of for this to happen to young trolls in his line of work, since many of their caretaking duties edged the line between pity and platonic, professional care. But John was not a troll, an ethics violation in itself, and that alone was enough to get Karkat laughed right out of an airlock. Besides that, anyone who took his place was bound to mistreat John, leaving him a broken, empty shell of a person like the others. That was just not something Karkat could allow to happen. 

"It’s fine, John," he reassured. John turned back to face him again, wearing the characteristic, buck-toothed grin that Karkat couldn’t help but exchange with his own eye-smile. “They’re not much, but it’s the least I could do." 

"No," John said suddenly, catching Karkat off guard. “No, they’re perfect. They’re the best. I feel a lot better now." He nodded in affirmation, eyes bright, imploring Karkat to take him seriously. There was no need, of course. It would never occur to Karkat to do otherwise. 

"That’s wonderful. Really wonderful," Karkat agreed, squeezing John’s shoulder tenderly. “Now, let’s see about getting your dressings changed." 

==>

After a longer evening spent with John, who had been more talkative than ever, Karkat dragged himself sleepily back up to his quarters. His mind, however, stayed below, on the holding deck. He had been more than a little despondent as he removed his clothes for the evening for Karkat to take back to his respiteblock— a necessary precaution, both for hygiene and to prevent any of the daytime janitorial staff from reporting such a finding. 

Karkat laid the articles neatly folded atop his desk next to his husktop and leaned on his elbows, yawning. It was only then that it occurred to him that it was long past his regular meeting time with Eridan. This would be the third time this week he had missed their meetup time. He felt an intense pang of guilt for letting himself get so caught up in concern for John that he forgot about his moirail. He groaned and let his head fall onto the folded clothes. 

_They smell like him._

Karkat nearly choked at the unbidden thought, and tried to push it aside to no avail. Darker thoughts followed it in a flood, his wandering mind betraying his better judgment. How John’s hair would feel as he carded his fingers through it, grasped him by the back of the neck, pulled him in for a kiss … 

Perhaps … perhaps he could deal with his growing flushed feelings on his own. He didn’t really have a choice, when it came down to it. If he missed any more meetings with Eridan, who was no doubt irate by this point, it would almost certainly be disastrous. Karkat had never met someone so pitiable, someone who needed almost constant conciliation, and if he failed in that duty it could drive Eridan right back to his old, vengeful ways. He could never forgive himself if that were to happen. 

Not to mention that it was highly unprofessional of him to be harboring feelings for John in the first place. Poor John who was strapped to a hospital bed against his will, who had been so giddy tonight over a set of simple clothing, who had looked so terribly, awfully beautiful with his eyes shining and cheeks flushed from orgasm -- 

Karkat pushed himself violently away from the desk, stripped, and made his way to the ablution chamber, arousal already coiling deep in his belly. Once the water was running hot he stepped inside, bracing himself against the wall as he began to stroke the sensitive entrance of his nook. He was already wet between the legs with his own fluids, allowing easy entrance for his fingers. After a few long strokes his bulge unsheathed itself, writhing wetly at his hand and thighs. He leaned his shoulder against the walls of the chamber and lowered his free hand just out of reach, teasing the tip as it thrashed about his spread fingers in search of something to twine with. 

He teased himself until he could no longer stand the blissful agony of it, and took his fully extended bulge into his hand, pumping it in long strokes from base to tip. He slipped another finger inside himself and moaned at the fullness, timing thrusts of his hand and brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves behind the root of his bulge. He let his mind wander again to the boy lying naked and helpless a few decks above and sighed heavily. What he wouldn’t give to have John here now, lying beneath him, to comfort him with a touch, to draw sighs and groans of pleasure from those lips, and fuck, maybe … Maybe still with the wrist restraints, or oh god, his legs strung up in the air, open and waiting, so inviting, fuck … 

It was beyond wrong, he knew, to be thinking of John in such a way, but damned if the thought of John’s firm ass around his bulge sliding rhythmically up and down, punctuating their heavy breathing with cries of pleasure, and all the while staring at him with those otherworldly eyes as he was titillated and fucked into submission didn’t soak Karkat thoroughly between the thighs. It was so utterly shameful, so scandalous, but it only spurred him on, and he let himself succumb to the dark pleasure of it all. 

It was to the mental image of John crying his name in ecstasy, flushed with his own orgasm as he writhed in his bindings, that Karkat felt the final wave of pleasure hit him. Spilling his bright red slurry across the ablution chamber floor with a final low grunt, he continued to stroke himself through it, slowing to a halt as his orgasm faded. He let himself fall back against the wall with a heavy sigh, watching carefully to make sure the incriminating fluids were washed away completely. 

He made quick work of cleaning himself up, and a bare few minutes later he settled into his recuperacoon for the night. He thought of John again fleetingly but pushed it away, and resolved to leave Eridan a message first thing in the morning. The sopor quickly went to work, relaxing his body and chasing the last black thoughts of shame and guilt from his mind as he fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any and all constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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